dani

Wooyoung is a menace, but a consistent one. That’s how you’ve survived being friends with him this long. You’ve learned his patterns.

Pattern #1: If there are snacks, he will steal at least 70% of them and pretend it’s your fault.

Pattern #2: If there is music, he will either be dancing or threatening to dance.

Pattern #3: If there is a couch, he will always take the corner with the best view of the TV and stretch out like a king, forcing everyone else to adapt.

Tonight, though, he walks into your living room, throws himself down on the less ideal side of the couch, and leaves the good corner free.

You narrow your eyes.

“Who are you,” you say, “and what have you done with Jung Wooyoung?”

He glances over, already halfway through opening the bag of chips he brought.

“Wow,” he says. “No ‘hello,’ no ‘wow, thank you for coming over with snacks like the generous king you are,’ just immediate suspicion.”

“I can multitask,” you say. “Hello, I’m suspicious.”

His mouth twitches.

“I just felt like sitting here,” he says, as if that settles it. “Nothing weird.”

You keep staring.

He keeps not meeting your eyes.

Interesting.

You put your hands on your hips. “You’re acting strange.”

He scoffs. “I’m always strange.”

“Okay, more strange,” you correct. “Did you break something? Is there bad news? Did you get a new haircut and you’re afraid I’ll roast you?”

He rolls his eyes and finally looks at you properly.

“No bad news,” he says. “No broken things. Hair still perfect, as you can see.” He flicks imaginary strands dramatically.

You squint.

“Are you dying?” you ask.

He snorts. “No? What?”

“Blink twice if the real Wooyoung is trapped in a basement somewhere,” you say. “Because the Wooyoung I know would have already eaten half that bag of chips and also stolen my blanket.”

“Your blanket is ugly,” he says.

“My blanket is cozy.”

“It looks like it was made out of retired grandpa cardigans.”

“And yet,” you say, pointed, “you always steal it.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, then shoves a chip in instead of replying. Classic avoidance.

You cross the room and flop down on the couch beside him, deliberately taking the corner. You tuck your feet up and claim your blanket, draping it over your lap.

He watches you, eyes flicking once to your legs disappearing under the fabric, and then away.

Okay, definitely weird.

You pull the blanket up aggressively, as if wrapping yourself in armor.

“Talk,” you say. “What’s going on in that head.”

He sighs dramatically, flopping back against the cushions.

“Can I at least pick the movie first?” he asks.

“We’ve seen every movie on your list,” you say. “Twice.”

“Third time’s the charm,” he says.

You snort. “Second time was the charm. Third time is concerning.”

“Fourth is tradition,” he counters.

You open your mouth to argue, but then you see the nervous flicker at the corner of his mouth, the way his hands are fidgeting with the ripped corner of the chip bag.

You exhale.

“Okay,” you say more quietly. “What’s wrong?”

His gaze snaps to you again, and this time he doesn’t look away.

For just a second, the chaos peels back, and you see it—something raw and unguarded in his eyes. It makes your chest go tight.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, softer now. “I just… wanted to see you.”

Your heart skips.

He says that kind of thing all the time. It’s not new. But tonight, with his shoulders a little tense and his usual bravado turned down a notch, it feels different.

“You saw me yesterday,” you point out gently.

He shrugs, eyes flicking back to the TV. “Yeah, well. I wanted to see you today too.”

You feel your face warm.

You hate how easily he does this to you. How one sentence, one look, can send your carefully arranged feelings tumbling like a stack of unsteady books.

You’ve liked him for a while now. Not in the vague, “oh he’s cute” kind of way. In the can’t-stop-thinking-about-him, stomach-flipping, half-panicked, half-thrilled kind of way.

Not that you’d ever admit that. Not when he’s like… this.

Jung Wooyoung, professional tease, serial flirt, walking chaos. He flirts with everyone. He likes making people flustered. That’s just how he is.

You tell yourself that when he throws an arm around your shoulders, he does that with everyone. When he drops into your lap, it’s because he’s a menace, not because he wants to be close to you, specifically. When he calls you “my favorite,” he says that about at least five other things a day.

It doesn’t matter that sometimes his eyes linger a little longer on you than they do on anyone else. That sometimes his jokes land with an odd weight, as if he’s hiding something in them. That sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking, he looks… soft.

You’re his friend. You’re not going to mess that up by reading into every smile.

…Even if you kind of do.

“Did something happen?” you ask. “With work? With the guys?”

He shakes his head. “No. Just… a normal day.” He hesitates. “The kind that makes you think too much.”

That—that you understand.

You sink further into the couch, pulling the blanket up to your chin, suddenly feeling oddly exposed under his gaze.

“Okay,” you say. “Normal day thoughts. Do you want distraction or do you want to talk about them?”

He gives you a crooked half-smile.

“Since when did you become so emotionally intelligent?” he asks. “Usually your suggestion for my problems is ‘have you tried sleeping?’”

“It’s a good suggestion,” you say. “Very underrated.”

“You threatened to knock me out with a frying pan once so I’d go to bed,” he reminds you.

“I stand by that,” you say.

He laughs quietly, and some of the tension in his shoulders eases.

“I… don’t know what I want,” he admits. “Distraction sounds nice. Talking also sounds nice. There’s just—”

He breaks off, teeth catching his lower lip.

“There’s what?” you prompt.

He stares at you for a beat, something like frustration flashing across his features.

“You’re going to laugh at me,” he says.

“I laugh at you constantly,” you point out.

“That’s the problem,” he groans. “You’re too comfortable.”

“Wow,” you say. “Excuse me for enjoying your presence.”

He drags a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more.

“See?” he says. “You say things like that, and then you look at me with that face, and my brain just—”

He makes a small exploding gesture near his temple.

“—short-circuits.”

Your heartbeat stutters.

“Wooyoung,” you say slowly. “You’re really not making any sense.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m trying to work up to it.”

“To what?” you ask.

He looks at you, really looks, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to memorize it. You suddenly feel too warm under his gaze, hyper-aware of the way you’re sitting, the way your hands are clutched in your lap, the way your heart is hammering.

“Okay,” he says, half to himself. “Distraction first. Talk later.”

Before you can argue, he snatches up the remote and starts scrolling through your streaming app like his life depends on finding the perfect movie.

You watch him, the speed of his scrolling, the way his knee bounces erratically. He is Very Clearly Not Okay.

“Wooyoung,” you say. “You’re scrolling past everything twice.”

“Nothing’s speaking to me,” he says tightly.

“Maybe because you’re not reading,” you point out.

He grunts.

You reach over and take the remote from his hand.

“Hey!”

“Wooyoung.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

He hesitates, then slowly turns his head. His eyes meet yours, dark and suddenly very serious.

“Talk first,” you say gently. “Then distraction. Your brain is doing that thing where it yells a lot in the background. I can practically hear it.”

He stares at you, lips pressed together like he’s pushing words back.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughs.

It’s a short, breathy laugh, disbelieving.

“What?” you ask.

“You,” he says softly. “You always do this.”

You blink. “Do what?”

“You look at me,” he says, “and suddenly I can’t hide anything.”

Something in your chest twinges.

“Is that… bad?” you ask.

He shakes his head quickly. “No. That’s…” He exhales. “That’s actually my favorite thing.”

You have to fight very hard not to melt into the couch.

“Okay,” you say, trying to sound normal when your insides are anything but. “Then let’s use it. What’s going on in there?”

You tap his forehead lightly.

He makes a face. “Rude.”

“Honest,” you correct.

He looks away, then back, then away again. Finally, he shuts his eyes for a brief second, like he’s bracing himself, then opens them and meets your gaze head-on.

“Promise you won’t make a joke before I finish?” he asks.

“Wow, calling me out,” you say, but you nod. “Okay. I promise.”

He nods, takes a breath, and then—

“Sometimes,” he says slowly, “I don’t know how to be serious with you without pretending I’m not.”

You blink. “What?”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “See? This is why I wanted distraction first.”

“Too late,” you say gently. “Explain.”

He leans his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“Everyone thinks I’m…” He gestures vaguely. “You know. Loud. Playful. Flirty. Annoying.”

“You left out ‘nimble,’” you say automatically.

He shoots you a look, and you mime zipping your lips.

“And they’re not wrong,” he continues. “I am all those things. I like being that way. It’s fun making people laugh. It’s fun teasing them, getting reactions. It’s… easy.”

You listen quietly, your heart tuning into a more careful rhythm. This isn’t a side of him most people get to see.

“But sometimes,” he says, “it feels like that’s all people want from me. Like I’m… performing all the time. Even when I don’t mean to.” He shifts, fingers picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “And then there’s you.”

You swallow. “Me?”

He nods.

“With you,” he says, “I start out joking. I can’t help it. It’s like my default setting. But then we’re in your kitchen, and you’re burning something again—”

“Hey.”

“—and you’re yelling at the pan like it personally offended you, and I’m laughing, and then all of a sudden, I look at you and it’s like… everything in me shuts up for a second.” His voice drops. “And I feel… calm. In a way I don’t, with other people.”

You stare at him.

“I still want to joke,” he says. “But it’s not because I want to hide. It’s because I want to see you laugh. Because your laugh is… stupid.” He grimaces. “Stupid in a way that makes me feel like my chest is going to fall apart.”

Your lips twitch. “My laugh is stupid?”

“Adorable,” he amends quickly. “Infuriatingly cute. Very distracting. I hate it.”

You smile, helpless.

“And then,” he continues, steamrolling over whatever expression is on your face now, “there are these moments. Tiny ones. You hand me a mug. You look at me when I say something dumb. You send me a meme in the middle of the day. You tell me about your week and try to act like you’re fine when you’re not.”

He swallows.

“And my brain goes,”—he taps his temple—“‘You’re in trouble.’”

Your throat feels tight.

“And I tell it, ‘Relax, we’re fine. They’re my friend. My best friend. My favorite person to annoy. That’s all.’” He laughs weakly. “But then we’re watching TV and you fall asleep on my shoulder and I don’t move for two hours because I’m afraid of waking you up, even though my arm is dead. And my brain goes, ‘No, really. You’re in trouble.’”

You remember that night. You remember waking up with a sore neck and an empty bowl of popcorn on the table, his hoodie draped over you like a blanket, even though you don’t remember when he took it off.

You hadn’t let yourself think about it too much.

You’re thinking about it now.

“And then,” he says softly, “I start wondering what it would be like to… hold your hand. Just because. Not because we’re crossing a street or I’m dragging you somewhere. To kiss you goodnight at your door and not make a joke about it. To show up at your work and say, ‘I’m here to pick up my....girlfriend’ instead of ‘my friend.’”

Your pulse spikes.

“And once that thought is in there,” he says, his voice trembling just slightly, “it doesn’t go away. It just… hangs around. Every time you look at me. Every time you call me. Every time you say my name like it… matters.”

Your eyes sting.

“Wooyoung…” you whisper.

“I tried to be cool about it,” he says. “Obviously. I’m very cool.”

“You’re incredibly cool,” you say, because he needs to hear it and because it makes his mouth twitch.

“I figured I’d just… flirt like I always do,” he says. “Except… it stopped being just flirting.”

He finally looks at you again, really looks.

“When I call you pretty,” he says quietly, “I mean it. When I say you’re my favorite, I mean it. When I tease you, it’s because I want your attention. When I steal your blanket, it’s because it smells like you. When I annoy you on purpose, it’s because I like seeing all your expressions. When I say ‘come over’ or ‘I’m coming over,’ it’s because… I feel better when you’re there.”

Your heart is pounding so hard you’re surprised he can’t hear it.

“And somewhere in all of that,” he continues, “I stopped being able to tell where the joke ended and the truth started.” His smile goes crooked. “So I did what I always do. I made everything a joke.”

Your chest aches.

“Today,” he says, “I woke up and thought, ‘What if I never tell you?’ And for about ten minutes, I was like, ‘Great, perfect, ideal plan, no risk, 10/10.’”

You huff out a weak laugh.

“But then I thought about you,” he says. “About you maybe falling for someone else. Someone who doesn’t know that you put your socks on before your pants because you said it ‘feels more efficient.’ Someone who doesn’t know that you hate when your foods touch. Someone who doesn’t know that you get quiet when you’re really upset, not loud. Someone who doesn’t know how you look when you’re trying not to cry and trying not to laugh at the same time.” His voice softens. “Someone who doesn’t know the things about you that I do.”

Your eyes blur.

“And the idea of that person being the one who gets to hold your hand,” he says, “or ...kiss you, or hear you say ‘I love you’ to them, when I’ve been here this whole time…” He trails off, then shakes his head, laughing humorlessly. “It made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.”

You realize now why he’s been off all night. Why his usual fire has been flickering instead of blazing.

“So I thought,” he says, staring at his hands, “maybe I should just tell you. Properly. Not in a joke. Not in a comment I can pretend I didn’t mean. Just… say it.” He glances at you, then looks away again quickly. “But that’s… terrifying.”

You wet your lips.

“What’s ‘it’?” you ask quietly, even though you already know. Even though your heart is pushing against your ribs like it’s trying to get closer to him on its own.

He laughs under his breath. It’s not a happy sound.

“You’re really going to make me say it, huh?” he says.

“You started this,” you remind him softly. “I just turned off the movie.”

He drags his hand down his face again, then lets it fall into his lap.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

He takes a breath. Lets it out.

When he speaks again, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“I like you,” he says. “In the ‘I want to date you’ way. In the ‘I want to be the one you call first’ way. In the ‘I want to kiss you and then make fun of your music taste’ way. In the ‘I think about you way too much’ way.”

He swallows.

“And… I think,” he adds, “that maybe ‘like’ stopped being a big enough word a while ago.”

Your lungs forget how to function.

He looks at you then, properly, his usual sharp stare melted into something earnest and scared and wide open.

“I love you,” he says.

The room seems to tilt.

“This isn’t a joke,” he says quickly, in case you had any doubt. “I’m not… playing around. I’m not saying it to get a reaction. I’m saying it because my chest has been screaming it at me for months, and if I don’t let it out, I might actually start vibrating.”

Despite everything, a quiet laugh escapes you.

“Wooyoung,” you whisper.

“I love you,” he repeats, more quietly this time, as if the words got easier on the second try. “I love you. And if you want to laugh, you can. If you want to tell me to stop, I will. If you don’t feel the same, I’ll go back to being your annoying friend who steals your snacks and crashes on your couch and tries very, very hard not to make it weird.”

His jaw clenches.

“But I couldn’t keep…” He gestures vaguely at his chest. “I couldn’t keep pretending it wasn’t real. Not with you. Not when… you mean this much to me.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

The boy who never shuts up is sitting completely still, waiting for you to decide whether you just changed his entire world or burned it down.

Your eyes sting. You blink, once, twice, trying to clear your vision.

“This is so unfair,” you say.

His face crumples, just a fraction.

“Unfair?” he repeats, voice suddenly hoarse. “Because you don’t—?”

“Because you stole my line,” you say, your voice wobbling.

He blinks. “What?”

You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding.

“You think you’re the only one whose brain is screaming?” you ask, half laugh, half sob. “You think you’re the only one who had an ‘oh no, I’m in trouble’ moment? Have you met yourself? Have you seen what you’re like?”

He looks bewildered. “I— what does that—”

“You show up,” you continue, because if you stop now you won’t start again, “and everything gets louder and quieter at the same time. Louder here—” You press a hand to your chest. “—quieter here.” You tap your temple. “You annoy me on purpose and then look at me like I’m the only one in the room. You steal my blanket and then tuck it back around me when I fall asleep. You flirt with everyone, but then you… say things to me that you don’t say to them, and I spend three business days trying to figure out if you meant them.”

His eyes widen slowly.

“And then you look at me,” you say, “when you think I’m not looking. Like you’re doing now, by the way, you’re very bad at hiding.”

He doesn’t even try to deny it.

“And I’ve been sitting here,” you say, “telling myself not to read into it. Not to ruin things. Not to be stupid. Because you’re my friend. You’re… Wooyoung. Chaotic, flirty, obnoxious, wonderful Wooyoung. And I thought… there’s no way. There’s no way he actually… feels the same.”

You let out a small, disbelieving laugh.

“But then you say things like ‘you’re my favorite person,’” you add, “and ‘I wanted to see you today too,’ and my heart is like, ‘sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed, it’s too late, we’ve already jumped.’”

His lips part.

“You…” he starts slowly, “you… jumped?”

“I free-fell,” you admit, cheeks wet now. “And then I landed on my couch and pretended I didn’t.”

He stares at you, something dawning in his expression.

“So when I said I love you—” he begins carefully.

“I wanted to scream,” you say. “In a good way. Mostly.”

His breath catches.

“Do you…” He swallows. “Do you… love me too?”

You could tease him. Drag it out. Make a joke.

You don’t.

“Yes,” you say simply. “I do.”

No metaphors. No hiding. The truth, plain and solid.

His reaction is immediate and unfiltered.

He inhales sharply, shoulders jerking, eyes going huge. A sound escapes him — half laugh, half sob — before he claps a hand over his mouth like he’s afraid something too big will come out.

You see it anyway. Everything he’s feeling, clear on his face: relief, disbelief, joy so intense it looks like it almost hurts.

You gently tug his hand away from his mouth.

“Don’t hide,” you say softly. “Not from me.”

He exhales shakily.

“You love me,” he says, like he needs to hear it again to believe it.

You nod.

“I love you,” you say. “In the ‘please stop flirting with other people so casually before I die’ way. In the ‘I replay our conversations in my head at night’ way. In the ‘I want to sucker-punch anyone who makes you feel like you’re only good for being entertaining’ way.”

His eyes flood, lashes damp.

“In the ‘I want to be the one you come home to after your normal and weird days’ way,” you finish, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I love you.”

For a second, he doesn’t move.

Then he laughs — a raw, choked sound — and throws himself at you.

You oof as he grabs you, arms winding around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug that’s all Wooyoung: too tight, too warm, too much, and exactly what you want.

You wrap your arms around him, laughing breathlessly against his shoulder.

“Careful,” you say. “I need that ribcage.”

“Do you?” he says, voice muffled in your hair. “Because my heart is outside my body right now.”

You squeeze him. “Mine too.”

He pulls back just enough to see your face, his hands still framing your shoulders. His eyes are shining, his cheeks flushed, his mouth curved in the softest version of his usual grin.

“I want to kiss you,” he blurts, then freezes. “I mean— can I? Can I kiss you? You can say no, it’s fine—”

You cut him off by leaning in and pressing your mouth to his.

He makes a startled noise, then recovers instantly, a smile breaking across his face mid-kiss. His hands slide from your shoulders to your cheeks, thumbs brushing your skin as he kisses you back properly, deeply, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.

It’s… a lot.

It’s Wooyoung, so of course it is. He kisses like he does everything: with his whole heart. Playful at first, then suddenly earnest, then teasing again. He tilts his head, chasing your lips when you pull back slightly, laughing softly into your mouth when your hand finds the back of his neck and tugs him closer.

When you finally part, you’re both breathing harder, foreheads resting together.

“Wow,” he whispers. “You’re good at that.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say, dazed.

He grins, that familiar wicked glint back in his eyes but this time it’s softened, framed by something deeper.

“So,” he says, voice still a little breathless. “We’re… dating now, right? Because if you tell me that kiss was, like, a community service moment, I’m going to pass out.”

You snort. “Yes, Wooyoung. We’re dating now.”

His grin somehow gets even bigger.

“I have a partner,” he says, like he’s trying the words on. “I have you.”

“You do,” you say.

He pulls you into another hug, burying his face in your neck.

“Okay,” he says. “First official boyfriend request.”

“You don’t waste time, do you?” you murmur against his hair.

“Never,” he says. “Stop doubting when I compliment you. I mean every stupid thing I say about you.”

Your chest tightens.

“Okay,” you say softly. “First official girlfriend promise: I’ll try.”

He pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“And second request,” he says.

“Already?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Next time I flirt with you…”

“Next time?” you interrupt. “You mean constantly.”

“…I want you to know,” he continues, undeterred, “that it’s real. Not just a joke. Not just me being chaos. It’s me saying ‘I love you’ in a way that makes you roll your eyes less.”

You bite your lip, smile tugging at it anyway.

“And my request,” you say, “is that you tell me when you need to be serious. Like tonight. So I can turn the jokes off and actually… see you.”

He feels that. You can tell by the way his expression softens.

“Deal,” he says quietly. “But you already see me.”

You smile.

“I do,” you say. “Took you long enough to realize it.”

He laughs, then suddenly gasps.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“We kissed before deciding on a movie,” he says. “This is chaos. This is anarchy. This is—”

You lean in and kiss him again, effectively shutting him up.

When you pull away, he sighs happily.

“Never mind,” he says. “Anarchy is fine.”

You chuckle, tugging the blanket again so it covers both of you now. He immediately takes advantage, scooting closer until he’s practically on top of you, his head on your shoulder, his fingers toying with your hand under the fabric.

“What are we going to watch, then?” you ask.

“You,” he says.

You elbow him lightly. “Pick a movie, loverboy.”

He grins up at you.

“Yes, partner,” he says, obviously savoring the word.

As he scrolls for something to put on, occasionally stopping to kiss your shoulder or your cheek or your knuckles, you lean back into the cushions, feeling warmth spread through your chest.

The couch is the same. The room is the same. The blanket is the same borderline-ugly-grandpa pattern. Wooyoung is still Wooyoung—dramatic, loud, annoying, endearing.

But his hand is in yours, his confession is echoing in your mind, and his eyes, when they flick to you between menu screens, are full of something new and undeniable.

He catches you staring and smirks.

“What?” he says. “Already obsessed with me?”

“Unfortunately,” you say.

He kisses the back of your hand.

“Good,” he says simply.

And just like that, with snacks on the table and a terrible movie starting up in the background, you realize: nothing has changed and everything has.

You still have Wooyoung on your couch, stealing your blanket and your snacks.

Only now, you have his heart, too.

And he finally knows he has yours.

thank you for reading, see you in the next confession

Find the other members here:

Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

It's not often you find yourself angry beyond reason, in fact, you'd like to think yourself a rather patient individual. But at the end of the day, a rather shitty one at that, there's only so much you can excuse or find reason with. Only so much silence and disrespect you can take before something inside you snaps and pushes down the logical side of your brain that's desperately trying to convince you "there's gotta be a good reason, Wooyoung would never purposely ignore you." Bullshit.

If he didn't want to go out tonight? Fine. That's not your issue. But standing you up without, at the very least, a courtesy call? You've wracked your brain all day, and there's just not much you can think of to justify the utter embarrassment and betrayal he put you through tonight. So you let your rage carry you the entire thirty-minute walk from your usual restaurant to the dorms and wait to be let in.

Not that there was much to begin with, your expectations having been severely degraded for the night, but the last twinge of hope you'd allowed to fester dies when your aggressive knocks on the KQ dorms summon San in leu of Wooyoung. He looks startled, but moreover just exhausted. "Y/N," He breathes out a greeting, quickly waving you inside. You don't quite pick up on it at first, but he sounds almost relieved to see you.

"Is he here?" You ask immediately, stepping into the empty area of the living room, between the TV stand and L–shaped couch. Yunho and Yeosang are there too, they peer at you through solemn eyes and let out their own sighs, matching San.

Yeosang rubs at his face, pulling the skin as he drags his palms down until they slip from his jaw and land in his lap. "Wooyoung? He's in his room."

You scoff, "That asshole–"

It's Yunho who moves first, standing and catching your arm before you can storm off to confront the object of your frustration.  "Woah, wait, what's going on?" It takes everything in you not to yank your arm from his gasp. You're mad at Wooyoung, not Yunho, you remind yourself.

"He's been ignoring me for the past three days and now he's missed our date night." You explain with a huff. Yunho drops your arm and looks between San and Yesoang. Their glances are far too knowing and not enough explaining, it irks you even further.

"What? Am I missing something here?"

Your impatience prompts another glance between the three boys before San finally elects himself to speak. "He won't really talk to us either," San frowns. "He's been acting kind of . . . weird."

"We got snapped at when we tried to offer grabbing dinner together earlier." Though Yeosang sounds just about as annoyed as you, there's something more behind his eyes that sends a pang through your heart. Worry? Helplessness? Guilt, perhaps? You try not to read too much into it.

"Well, he doesn't get to be an asshole about it."

"I agree," The group nods at your statement. "But listen, don't be too hard on him, alright? I don't think he's feeling too great." Yunho chooses his words with surgical-like precision. The phrase "I don't think he's feeling too great" sticks in your mind and leaves a bitter taste on the tip of your tongue.

"Noted." With that, you turn on your heels and start down the hall to Wooyoung's room, no one intervenes or follows this time.

You rasp three times on the wooden door with your knuckles, and thrice more when your first attempt yields no response. It's just silence, and after an internal debate between impatience and hesitancy, you reach for the knob and twist.

The door only opens but a few inches when a loud huff resonates through the pitch-black room. "I told you guys to leave me alone," Wooyoung croaks, his voice raspy and raw.

You ignore his request and allow yourself in anyways, shutting the door behind you and enveloping the room in near darkness. The poor lighting situation unfortunately doesn't do much in terms of masking the clutter you're faced with upon second glance. Various piles of clothes are haphazardly strewn about, making the room feel more like a maze than a habitable environment. Open and unfinished food containers cast a rather unpleasant aroma that clings to your olfactory senses and causes your nose to scrunch up involuntarily.

Wooyoung himself lays in bed, wrapped in a thick cocoon of blankets with his back turned to the door. A faint glow highlights the portions of his face visible to you and you can just barely pick up on a popular TikTok audio playing on a loop over the hum of the A/C unit.

You stop a few feet from him. "Oh, so your phone is working. Good to know."

Wooyoung's head whips around with lightning speed, eyes blown wide with surprise. "Y/N? Why are you here?"

You roll your eyes at his incredulous expression. "Do you have any idea what day it is?"

He thinks for a moment, hazy eyes scanning the room, and then you. He blinks once, twice, a third time. "Thursday?"

"It's Saturday, Wooyoung."

"Oh."

He visibly deflates, sinking further into the safety of his blanket and flipping back to his side, leaving you to spill your grievances to the back of his head. "Is that all you have to say? I waited alone for you to show up for nearly two hours, and all you have to say is 'oh.'?"

"I'm sorry." He doesn't sound it. "I'm not really sure what else you want me to say."

Your fists ball up at your sides with how apathetic he is. It's just so unlike him, giving you the cold shoulder as opposed to greeting you with eager kisses and excited giggles. A knot ties itself tightly in your gut and twists uncomfortably. You uncurl your fingers and wriggle them, trying to release the built-up tension. Forcing a calmness into your voice that honestly, you aren't sure how you manage, you speak.

"Woo, why are you being like this?" You cross your arms over your chest, preparing to protect yourself from another very likely short response from your boyfriend. "You could have at least told me you weren't coming, or texted to let me know you were okay. . ."

He huffs again. "Fine. I'm sorry I flaked. I'm an asshole, I get it. Now please leave, I'm not in the mood."

It should make you even angrier. His complete disregard for how he's talking to you, the careless attitude he uses to cover up whatever he's actually feeling. But you've known Wooyoung for too long, and something must be seriously wrong for him to behave how he is. The knot in your stomach coils even tighter and stretches into your chest, constricting your airways. You're starting to understand why Yeosang looked so worried.

You manage to suck down a deep breath that allows your prior frustration to dissipate just enough so you can keep a cool head, even if he can't. You choose your next words carefully, dropping your voice down to a patient whisper.

"I don't wanna leave without knowing you're okay, but if you say you are . . . then I'll believe you, I won't pry any further."

The room descends into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the increasingly rapid and jagged breathing of the boy in front of you. Something halfway between a choked sob and hiccup bubbles up from the confines of his throat. The uncharacteristic sound is worse than anything you've heard pass through his lips before. It nearly splits your heart right down the middle.

"Baby," you coax. "Tell me what you need and I'll do what I can." You take a seat on the edge of his bed, and rest your palm where his shoulder is just beneath the blanket, lightly squeezing to try and initiate some form of comfort.

Wooyoung crumbles all too quickly for what your heart can handle. He shrinks even further as he curls into a loose ball. One hand shoots out from under his fortress to grip yours that rests on his shoulder. He cradles your hand against his chest, holding on the way a frightened child would. Cry after cry tumbles from his lips in a wretched sound, something akin to that of shattering glass on cold tile.

"I don't know," he gasps out. "I don't fucking know!"

"Okay, okay," you coo, using your free hand to repeatedly comb through strands of his messy, unwashed hair. "It's okay." You aren't sure what to say, and you're terrified you'll say the wrong thing, so you opt for nothing at all. You simply let Wooyoung cry, trusting that eventually, he'll let you know what he needs, even if it's just the rest of the night alone.

You aren't sure how long the two of you sit in silence or when Wooyoung's sobs finally begin to taper out to sniffles. Though what he says next sends your heart plummeting to your stomach and snags the air from your lungs.

"I just wanna be good enough." He confesses.

Your fingers freeze in his hair as you try to process some type of response, but the best you can get out is "What do you mean?"

"I just. . . I just feel— like shit. Like a shit friend, a shit boyfriend, a shit idol, a shit person. I feel disgusting."

Realistically, you know there's nothing in the world you can say in this moment to relieve the anguish he feels. You can let praise after praise for him fall from your lips, but they'd never reach his ears. Not when he's already convinced himself he isn't worthy of them. But that doesn't stop you from wanting to at least try. Even if it only relieves a fraction of what he feels. And you think maybe if you can't heal his mind, you can at least make sure he's physically okay.

You give his hand that's still clutching yours to his chest a squeeze. "Why don't we make something to eat, hm? You must be hungry?" But he shakes his head.

"Some tea then? Water?" He shakes his head again.

"Baby, you gotta do something to take care of yourself."

Wooyoung lets out a shaky sigh, "I don't want them to see me, not like this." You piece together he must be talking about his members. Which means no venturing out to the kitchen for food or drinks.

"Okay, maybe a bath then?"

He thinks for a moment, but surprises you when he, albeit reluctantly, agrees. Maybe he's caught on that you won't be giving up until he does at least something. Maybe he's just trying to appease you so you'll stop pestering him. Or maybe he just genuinely wants to. Whatever the reason, you're happy for it.

You slip your hand from his grasp and whisper that you'll get the water started and for him to take all the time he needs. When the tub fills and bubbles form from the bath solution you poured in, you come back to find him unraveled from his nest of blankets and sitting on the edge of his bed. You smooth his hair back and he looks up at you with sad eyes.

"It's ready whenever you are. I'll give you some time to get undressed and settle in, okay?"

The way he nods is robotic and the glassy and distant reflection in his eyes drives daggers through your heart. You wonder if he even heard you, but then he meekly rises to his feet, rubbing at stiff joints on the way up. He disappears to the bathroom moments before two knocks resonate from the wooden door.

You open it by just a crack, fully preparing to shoo off whoever it is as per Wooyoung's wishes. But when you're met face to face with a disheveled red-eyed Yeosang, you don't have the heart to tell him to go away. So you take a quick peek to make sure Wooyoung is shut away in the bathroom before opening his door the rest of the way.

Yeosang peaks around the dim room. "Is Wooyoung okay?" He whispers.

You offer up as good of a smile as you can despite the circumstances. You're not sure you've ever seen Yeosang so concerned. "He will be," you assure. The blond boy in front of you nods and mumbles out his own affirmations of Wooyoung's well-being.

"Uh, I know he probably doesn't want the extra attention right now, but could you give him this for me?" Yeosang extends a water bottle and two bags of snacks for you to take. "Oh– and San asked me to give this as well." He untucks what looks like a stuffed dog from under his arm and hands it to you as well with the utmost care. "Shiber is his favorite, but San said he thinks Wooyoung needs him more tonight."

"I'll let him know," you speak softly and Yeosang nods, but doesn't leave. He just stands there, nervously looking around and shifting from side to side. "Are you okay?" You ask.

"He scares me when he's like this."

"It's happened before?"

Yeosang nods. "Not a lot, but sometimes he just gets too caught up in his own head and shuts everyone out. I know he'll be fine, he always is . . . But he's my best friend, you know? It hurts."

You nod, understanding exactly what he means. It's hard, watching someone you love struggle and not knowing how to help them. "Yeah, I know. If it's any solace, he did get out of bed." You check over your shoulder to make sure Wooyoung hasn't reappeared. "Hopefully washing up makes him feel a little better."

The information causes a sad smile to lift the corners of Yeosang's lips. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"I'll try to keep you updated or let you know if he needs anything."

Yeosang nods, "Please do."

The two of you say your goodbyes and you shut the door back as softly as possible before setting the items Yeosang brought on his bed and returning to the door of the bathroom. You knock a few times, making sure it's okay that you enter, to which you only receive a half-hearted hum as permission. You peer in and see the tub still remains untouched. Frowning, you step fully inside to find Wooyoung stood in front of his sink mirror, seemingly lost in thought as he stares at his reflection.

His t-shirt lays discarded on the counter, leaving him shivering in just his red plaid boxers. His eyes are sad as they roam over his own figure, lips pursed in a thin line, expression one of disappointment. He takes in a deep breath, chest puffing out as it fills with air and deflates seconds later. Trembling, he wraps his arms around his torso and drops his gaze to the porcelain sink.

You take it upon yourself to slip into the space between him and the mirror, effectively blocking his ability to look even if he wanted to. You tilt your head enough to gaze at him from below, finding his eyelids squeezed shut and his jaw tensed.

Wooyoung's breath hitches when you place a gentle palm on his cheek, but he relaxes into the warmth of it twice as fast. You lift his head, thumb working to rub half circles into the damp skin.

You press a feathery kiss to the space between his eyes, and the action causes them to flutter open. "Hi, my beautiful boy." His bottom lip quivers the tiniest amount.

"C'mon, it'll get cold if we wait too long, yeah?"

He nods and tries to take one last look in the mirror, but you keep his face from turning enough to do so and he doesn't even try to fight you on it. Your hand slips from his cheek and reaches out for his, taking it and leading him over to the steaming tub.

"I'll grab some towels for when you're done." You offer, though it's more of an excuse to give him some privacy while he finishes undressing and slips in. You can only imagine how vulnerable he feels right now and it only feels right to extend that courtesy.

When you return he's fully submerged, covered by the opaque and foamy water. "I set out some shampoo and stuff earlier, but if you need anything else just call out, okay?" You say, crouching beside the tub and using the edge of it to rest your hands for balance. "Would it be okay if I cleaned up your room a bit?"

Wooyoung thinks for a moment, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "I won't if you don't want me to." You give him an out.

"Actually, um . . . Could you maybe just sit with me for a little? Please." His eyes flit back and forth between you and the still water.

"Of course," you whisper, using the tub's edge to push yourself to stand. You swiftly discard your own clothes and fold them up on the counter along with Wooyoung's. "Scoot up a bit," you instruct, and he does. Carefully, as to not splash any water, you step in and lower yourself into the warm liquid. Your back rests against the wall of the tub with Wooyoung positioned between your legs.

Taking a quarter-sized amount of shampoo in your palm, you begin lathering it into his hair and massaging his scalp. He stays silent while you work away, doing as you ask almost absent-mindedly when you guide him this way and that to rinse the products from his hair.

"Okay, lean back," you instruct one last time, guiding his head down to dip his hair in the water and cleanse it of conditioner.

"Thank you," he mumbles, turning his head a little bit to look at you. "You didn't have to do all that."

Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his abdomen and rest your chin on his shoulder. "I didn't, but I wanted to."

"And I'm sorry for ignoring you, I'm so sor—"

"It's okay, I know." You mumble, lifting your head from its resting position just enough to press a kiss behind his ear. He relaxes slightly, and you continue. Peppering butterfly kisses down the side of his neck and to his shoulder.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, the only noise a soft buzzing emitting from the fluorescent lights above. The warm water mixed with Wooyoung's even breaths work like a lullaby and you finally allow yourself a moment to relax. Your eyelids feel heavy, the stress of today's events finally catching up with your body. You rest against Wooyoung and continue to hold him, cheek smushed against his shoulder blade.

"It's okay if you want to go, I know you're probably tired." He suddenly speaks.

You hum against his skin, "I'm not leaving, not unless you ask me to."

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to, I can handle shit like this myself."

"That's the problem, Wooyoung." You sigh, not out of frustration or anything of the sort, but because your heart hurts for him and you're running out of ways to let him know you truly do want to help. "You're not a burden. Not to me, or Yeosang, or San, or Yunho— anyone. Why didn't you just tell us? You know we're there for you no matter what."

"I didn't know how," His voice breaks. "I don't like being like this. I hate who I am right now but I can't stop it!"

Wooyoung's shoulders tremble, and you can sense another pent-up wave of emotions ready to crest. "I just want to feel okay again," he sobs and you instinctively shift back, pulling him with you to recline. He sinks into the water a bit, head under your chin and resting against your chest. You reposition your arms for him to get comfortable, wrapping them around his midsection.

The final thread he'd been hanging on to finally snaps and Wooyoung completely shatters in your arms right then and there. His wails fill the room with perhaps the most heartbreaking sounds you've had the misfortune to hear. You hold him for what feels like hours, your own silent tears streaming steadily down your cheeks.

There's absolutely nothing you can say in that moment and you hate it. You hate feeling helpless, you hate that Wooyoung ever has to feel this way, and you hate the world for being so harsh to him. It isn't fair.

You can sit there and tell him everything that will be okay and kiss him better all you want, but at the end of the day, those are just empty dreams. It's ambitious to believe you alone could piece him back together in this moment. So you do the best you can, and just hold the broken pieces of him together so that none get lost. Even if they slice your skin and leave your hands bleeding, you'll make sure to handle them with the utmost care.

he's also thee best comforter during exam season omg!!!

more than willing to stay up all night studying with you if it makes you feel better

he knows how u spiral into panic if you're left on ur own, so the closer it gets to exams, he starts showering u with even MOREE affection than before

and you know he'll be showering u with kisses once exams r FINALLY out of the way as a congratulations 😙

always leaves snacks in your bag and little post-its with cat faces drawn on them to reminder you to drink water bc he KNOWS that you're so bad at taking care of urself when you're fully locked in

"hey junnie, you know you can just text me, right?" / "are you saying you don't like my cat drawings :((" / "whAT NO I WOULD NEVER—"

also just bc he's a broke college student does nawwt mean you'll ever catch him slacking as ur bf !!

gives you little gifts whenever possible, is always showing up at ur dorm with flowers, buys you books + clothes + stationary + groceries + whatever he can to show he cares

one thing he won't do, though, is catch bugs for you.

nuh uh. that is a no-go.

who cares that he's literally 600000x bigger than the spider? the spider is still WAYY scarier than he'll EVER be so he is NOT touching that no thank you.

the two of you stay glued to one corner of the library till ur friend arrives and scares the spider off

but junhui makes up for his bug-related uselessness by being useful in literally every other area of ur life

hungry? he'll cook for you. sick? he'll take care of you. stuck on an essay? he'll help you, even if he's not studying anything remotely related to ur major

he could be in the throes of finishing his dissertation, bags under his eyes and the world on his shoulders but he'll still drop everything to help you

what can he say? he's in love with u.

and what makes it even better is he knows, he knows that you'd do the exact same thing for him too

you're so full of love, so kind and wonderful that he can't help but do all of this in return, just to try and give an ounce of that same love back

it's the least you deserve, he thinks.

(and don't tell anyone, but right after graduation, he's thinking of getting you a promise ring and taking u to visit china with him b4 u go to ur respective internships.)

(and then, further down the line... he's really hoping to marry you one day. you know. because he really does love you a lot. hopefully you love him just as much too.)

joshua

watching his face morph from confusion to surprised realisation when he notices you've done something for him never fails to make your day. for joshua, it's still surprising every time (he's just 24/7 touched by ur love) and he knows how much you love doing things for him, and so he just lets you do what you love. it's also so devastatingly sweet, and knowing you pay attention to him this much makes his heart melt

junhui

loves it, mainly because every time u do something for him, it gives him the excuse to smother you with kisses. his love language is touch, okay, but sometimes he knows he can get overwhelming… but if he's giving you a kiss as a thank-you for doing something for him, then there's no way that can be overwhelming yk!! still kisses you all the time, tho. the acts of service thing is just an excuse. 

hoshi

he's a youngest child, so obviously he loves it. getting doted on like this is the best thing in the world for him, but also he loves seeing you light up with joy every time you do something that you think will make him happy. you look so gorgeous when you're happy like this, so you can bet he's bounding over to pepper your faces with kisses and shower you with compliments because oh, he's just soo lucky to be loved by you

wonwoo

has admitted to you during pillow talk more than one time that he loves when you take care of him like this. it makes him feel so—noticed, like he's something precious, something worth paying attention to, and it touches his heart to be loved in that way. always repays the favour through his actions and his words wherever he can, telling you sincerely how much he loves you and is so grateful that you love him

woozi

pretends to hate it but actually really likes it. he doesn't like it all the time, but there is something nice about how sometimes, he'll have this overwhelming list of things he has to do and then he finds that—oh. you've done some of those things for him, without him even breathing a word of it to anyone. it makes him feel seen, incredibly touched that you cared enough to notice and take some off the load off his shoulders. 

minghao

whenever you try to engage in acts of service for minghao, it kind of fails bc it turns into both of you doing stuff together. it's what happens when your love language of acts of service meets minghao's love language of quality time. everything becomes a duo activity. but honestly, you don't mind, because you love anything that has to do with minghao

mingyu

mingyu is so acts of service coded that this can go one of two ways. 1) he adores u doing things for him. you knowing what he needs done without him even saying? peak love fr. or 2) he's adamantly against it bc hey, he's meant to be taking care of you, wdym you did all the laundry for him this week???? either way tho, mingyu probably ends up sweeping you in his arms and kissing u soft and sweet 2 show how much he loves u too

dokyeom

melts into the floor every time you do something for him omg. this man canonically loves being called a princess so this kind of princess treatment is perfect for him!!! gets all touched and giggly when you carry out tasks for him, blushes when you feed him food and is just all in all a complete mess of adoration for u. it's one of the many reasons you love doting on him so much. 

seungkwan

both of you are acts of service people and it's honestly so funny. you tidy the living room bc you know he's been wanting it done, and he'll cook dinner bc he knows how tired you are. that's all well and good, but then it becomes you doing a deep clean of the house because you know that seungkwan knows that you wanted that done because he wanted it done and you're doing it now to help seungkwan help you to help him... which is a bit weird, but that's just how things work with you two

vernon

you do things for him, and in return, he does things for you. probably at the same time as you do things for him, too, in a kind of quiet, co-existing way. you'll dust his vinyls as he waters your plants, or you'll massage his shoulders as he's cleaning your jewellery. he likes existing in the same space as you and doing things for you at the same time as you do things for him. it's calming. 

chan

beyond grateful every. single. time. whenever he finds you've made him lunch or done the shopping or even done something very small, he's falling over himself in gratitude bc oh lord you're so SWEET and he's gonna cry. sings your praises to everyone he knows bc you're the best person in EXISTENCE and he's so lucky to be with you. tells you he loves you at every opportunity because it's true, and he'll never get tired of saying it

request guidelines

“Aw, come on,” your boyfriend, Seokmin, pouts sadly at you and then promptly faceplants onto your bed in a dramatic display of his distress. “Why can't I call you a pet name? Why don’t you like any of them?”

Sitting cross-legged at the head of your bed, you watch amusedly as Seokmin begins flailing about like a fish throwing a tantrum into your sheets before you. He groans, flips onto his back and stares up at you through his eyelashes, forehead wrinkling as he strains to look at you from his upside-down position.

“Is there really nothing that you like?”

You sigh, leaning back against the headboard. “They’re all so cringy, Seokmin. It makes me feel all… icky.”

Honestly, after six months of dating, it was inevitable that a conversation about this was bound to come up eventually. You're surprised he hasn't called you any pet names until now, but he mostly sticks to saying your name in the most enamoured tone possible, and it's only after the small incident a few hours ago that it's finally happened. The talk on your dislike of such terms of endearment. 

Seokmin sits upright, scrambling around so he can face you. “It’s just because you’re not used to them, I promise,” he says earnestly. "Once you start hearing them a lot, they become really cute!”

You shake your head. “No. Trust me, I really don’t like them at all. They feel really… objectifying. And I know you never mean it like that, but it still makes me feel all bad inside.” Seokmin's face falls, and you wince apologetically. “Sorry. That was probably a really weird thing to say. I'm sorry. It just makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay,” Seokmin says. “I get it. And if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I won’t use them, don't worry about it.” He smiles brightly, and you pout placatingly, patting him on the head. 

“Sorry. I shouldn't have said that so harshly.”

“No, no, it's fine, trust me,” Seokmin reassures. “And it's not harsh. It totally explains why you reached the way you did earlier, so it's all okay. For realsies. I swear.”

But even as he says so, he’s still pouting profusely, head hung like a dejected puppy, and you wonder why this is getting to him so much. 

Seokmin is big on feelings, big on emotions, but he’s also getting better at handling the negative stuff. And normally, only significant things like acts of injustice or cruel words towards his loved ones will have him upset in this way, so you’re honestly quite confused.

This whole predicament arose earlier that afternoon, when you’d popped your head into the studio that Seokmin had told you he was working in, only to find him immersed in songwriting with Jihoon and Soonyoung.

That hadn’t been a problem, and you’ve walked into studios numerous times to find your boyfriend immersed in something with the other guys, but it’s the first time that what happened next had occurred—

Seokmin’s eyes had lit up when he saw you hovering in the doorway, and he waved you over with a grin.

“Hey!” he’d said, gesturing for you to come in. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early, baby.”

And at the pet name attached to the end of that sentence, you’d cringed immensely and physically recoiled, as if the term had literally grown arms and smacked you across the face.

The change in atmosphere had been instant, both Jihoon and Soonyoung looking confused at your demeanour.

“What is it?”

You couldn’t look Soonyoung in the eye even as he voiced his question, too embarrassed by your extreme reaction. “Sorry. I just. I don’t really like being called—that.”

Too busy looking at the floor, you didn’t notice the way Seokmin’s face fell also, but you could hear it in his tone.

“Oh… I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know.”

The conversation had ended soon after that, with Seokmin promising he’ll be done soon and urging you to just wait at home. There had been no point in hanging around, especially with how stifling the studio had suddenly become. And true to his word, Seokmin came straight over to your house some minutes later, and then the subject had come up once again, and here you were.

It can’t be because of the embarrassment of it happening in front of his bandmates, you decide. If anything, you feel more embarrassed and ashamed for reacting so harshly. 

But Seokmin looks so dejected, even as he tries to wipe away his pout and leans over to snuggle into your side, burrowing into the space between your shoulder and your neck.

“Sorry,” you say again, because you're not sure how to fix this. “If you like them, then I guess I can get used to it…?”

Seokmin's shaking his head before you can even finish. 

“No, if it makes you uncomfortable, of course I don't want to use them,” he says. He reaches over to where your hands rest in your lap, beginning to fiddle with your fingers with his own. “I'm not sad about it. It's okay.”

You pout down at the top of his head, even though he can't see you. “Yes you are, Seokmin. What's wrong?”

He doesn't say anything, continuing to play with your fingers. When you close your hands into fists, preventing him from fiddling anymore, he whines in protest, taking his head off your shoulder to look at you petulantly. 

“Please tell me what's wrong, Seokmin,” you say, instead of giving in to the puppy eyes he's making at you. “I can tolerate the pet names if it means a lot to you, really. I promise it'll be okay.”

Seokmin hesitates, and then looks away, shoulders shrinking inwards. 

“It's just. I wanna call you something special. Like, your name is so pretty, and I love it, but I wanna be able to say something cute and unique that's just for me when I wanna call you over or whatever,” Seokmin admits. 

He looks up at you, just briefly, before he looks down at the bedding again, cheeks pink. 

“Some days, I can't even believe you're dating me. I can't believe I'm this lucky. And I just… wanted to call you something that could affirm that. And pet names seemed an easy way to show how lucky I feel to be with you. Shows how much I love you, you know?”

Your eyes widen. The L-O-V-E word hasn't come up between the two of you yet, but—after a relationship of six months, and a friendship that's been going strong for many years before this, perhaps it's not so surprising. 

It's definitely not surprising that Seokmin's said it first, though. He's always been big on feelings. 

(You love him for it.) 

“Oh,” you say softly, heart melting at his shy, sincere admission. “I feel the same way,” you say, and Seokmin looks up at you, eyes wide and hopeful. 

“You like me that much? You're willing to let me call you a pet name?”

“I love you,” you correct, smile widening. “And… well, I think we can work something out.”

───────────── ‘🧴, 

“So then what happened?” Jeonghan asks after you finish recounting your story to him over the phone. His face is slathered in some clay mask and in the blurry connection of the video call, he looks like a green-skinned, peeling zombie. 

You smile, shrugging. “We worked it out,” you say, sitting down at your sofa, phone propped on your knees so you can talk to Jeonghan better. “He's not calling me anything like baby or sweetie, but we're both happy with it.”

“He'll honestly be happy with anything,” Jeonghan says dryly. “He loves everything about you. You could say you want him to call you “boulder” and he'll agree.”

That makes you laugh. “No, he wouldn't. That's silly.”

“Trust me. He'd do it.”

“Lies.”

“Why don't you ask him and find out?”

There's the distinct pattern of beeps as someone inputs the passcode to your door, and then the telltale melody of the passcode being inputted correctly. You look up as the door opens, and Seokmin steps through, making you smile. 

“Speak of the devil,” you say, in Jeonghan's direction. “Seokmin just came home.”

“Hey there, girlfriend,” Seokmin greets you with a smile, coming over to kiss you on the forehead before peering at your screen. “Oh, is that Jeonghan hyung?”

“Hey there, boyfriend,” you greet back, smiling up at him. “It is. I was telling him about our new nickname system.”

“Oh!” Seokmin's face breaks out into a wider grin. “Well. It was your idea, so I'll leave you to it, my girlfriend. I'm all sweaty, though, so I'm off to shower first. Tell him I said hi!”

“Just say hi to me yourself, ” Jeonghan says amusedly. "I can hear you."

You laugh at Jeonghan's response, pecking Seokmin on the cheek before he moves off in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Welcome home, my boyfriend.”

“That's cute,” Jeonghan comments, once Seokmin has left the room. “He calls you girlfriend.”

You smile, and you know how heart-sickeningly in-love you look right now, but it doesn't even matter. 

“He does. The whole thing with pet names was just the idea of specialness between us, and the girlfriend and boyfriend thing do it quite well. Without making it sound like he's talking to a teddy bear. It's cute, right?”

Jeonghan hums. “I dunno. Teddy bears are pretty cute.” But then he smiles, all real and genuine and cracking the edges of his clay mask as he does. “I was right, though. He just loves everything about you.”

“Yes, he does,” you say, overflowing with fondness. “Good thing I love everything about him too.”

TIME CHECK: 9:34 PM. 

Joshua Hong is in love with you. 

He’s been in love with you for eight birthdays (counting yours and his), four Christmases, and two shitty Valentine’s (one for each of you). 

Has he done anything about it? Not really. 

Will that stop him from trying? Absolutely not. 

The two of you had promised to make it to Minghao’s by 9:30 sharp, but the song on the radio had been just a little too good as he pulled the car into park. It’s in those four extra minutes that Joshua is reminded just why he’s been so infatuated with you all this time. 

The enthusiastic way you sing along to the AJ Rafael track. The giggles you let out when you trip over the lyrics only to barrel right on to the next verse like nothing happened. The upturn of your lips, the ghost of a smile— 

God, he is so in love with you. 

He plays the part. He pretends the steering wheel is a drum. He bobs his head up and down in time with your off-tune crooning. He belts when you ask him to, his riff of maybe you could save me from this crazy world we live in breaking off into a laugh when your voice cracks. 

The final verse is still playing when you finally give up, nudging Joshua’s shoulder. “Let’s go,” you prompt. “Before Seungcheol blows a gasket.” 

Of course Seungcheol would be the most upset if the two of you were late. Joshua chuckles at the mental image of his friend pouting the whole night. “Alright, alright,” he concedes. 

He’s out of his seat in the next second, jogging past the front of the car so he can open the passenger door for you. You have that exasperated look on your face— the same one you wear when you’re about to insist that he doesn’t have to do this— but it’s softened by fondness. 

“After you, m’lady,” Joshua says loftily, selling the whole act with a little curtsy. 

You’re laughing as you take his hand. “Don’t mind if I do.” 

Once you’ve stepped out of his car, you surprise him by not dropping his hand. “C’mon,” you urge, instead keeping your hands clasped as you tug him forward. 

He stumbles on his first step but follows easily, the biggest smile beginning to spread on his face. The song from the radio is playing on repeat in the back of his mind— a refrain that could be as good as a promise, if he squinted. 

We could happen, Joshua thinks dazedly as you drag him up to Minghao’s front door. We could happen. 

TIME CHECK: 10:42 PM. 

“Oi, loverboy.” 

The pet name snaps Joshua out of his reverie. His head snaps over to Seokmin, who had been chatting his ear off for the past couple of minutes. 

“Don’t call me that,” Joshua grumbles. 

His friends are merciless. Seokmin snickers. Jihoon bites back a smile. Jeonghan rolls his eyes. 

“We were asking what your birthday wish was,” Seokmin repeats. 

Jeonghan chimes in, “Y’know, after we all pulled lies out of our asses to make sure you could spend the day with the love of your life.” 

“Stop,” whines Joshua, the tips of his ears already beginning to flame red. He composes himself just enough to huff, “And I can’t tell you what my birthday wish was. Otherwise it won’t come true.” 

Jihoon mumbles something like ‘true’, but Jeonghan and Seokmin are relentless. 

“Give us a hint,” Jeonghan insists. 

Seokmin raises his index finger and his thumb. “Just a teensy, little hint!”

Autonomously, Joshua’s eyes flick over to where you are. You’re across the room, engaged in conversation with Mingyu and Vernon. The distance is far enough that Joshua can’t make out what’s being said, but it must be a good one; you’re grinning, nodding, gesticulating. 

He holds back the urge to swoon. It’s a futile attempt; his friends all share looks before bursting into raucous laughter. 

“No hint needed,” Seokmin says amusedly. 

As much as Joshua hates to admit it, the man is right. The answer to what he wished for is clear as day, is in the very same room as him. 

TIME CHECK: 11:10 PM. 

Unbeknownst to Joshua, there’s a plan in motion. It’s a rather simple plan, too, and the boys had been convinced they could see it through. 

After all, they only had to make sure that you and Joshua were at each other’s side by 11:59 PM. 

Simple, right? 

Except Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Wonwoo are knocked out of commission after sharing a champagne bottle. 

Minghao gets into a spat with Junhui over one thing or another. Seungcheol and Jeonghan bicker to the point that Seungcheol has relegated himself to one corner, his arms crossed over his chest as he sulks. 

“These idiots,” Seokmin huffs disbelievingly. Must he do everything himself? 

He checks his watch. He has forty more minutes. 

He could probably afford one more drink. 

TIME CHECK: 11:43 PM. 

Joshua can’t believe his friends. 

If they’re not drunk, they’re feuding. Seokmin— who had earlier been so insistent on seeing the telecasted ball drop— is sprawled out on the couch, knocked out cold. 

“That’s one way to usher in the new year,” you muse. 

Something in Joshua’s chest thrums. 

“Guess it’s just us,” he says smoothly. He thinks he deserves a standing ovation for just how even his voice sounds, betraying nothing about the hammering in his chest. 

His nerves are somewhat eased by the smile that breaks on your face. “It’s just us,” you repeat, and you don’t sound particularly opposed to the idea. 

You even sound… excited? 

Joshua tries not to overthink it. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, just to keep himself from reaching out for you. “The view of the fireworks might be better from outside,” he says. “What do you say?” 

It’s a selfish offer. Joshua is trying to mastermind his way into being your New Year’s Eve kiss. God forbid a man try to make a move. 

“I say that sounds good,” you respond, and Joshua barely holds himself back from breaking out into a little dance. 

TIME CHECK: 11:57 PM.

Out on the sidewalk, it’s just the two of you.

The streetlamps cast a warm halo over your head. The fireworks bathe you both in multicolored flashes of light. There’s the sounds of bells ringing, and children screeching, and trumpets being blown. 

All of it feels inconsequential to the thrill running through Joshua’s veins. 

You’re standing by his side, talking about your resolutions for the new year. And you’re so lovely. And there’s nothing Joshua wants more than to finally, finally— 

“Oh?” You fish your phone out of your pocket. “Ah, sorry. Give me a minute, yeah?” 

Joshua’s hand twitches at his side, like he’s tamping down the urge to keep you. “Take your time,” he says. 

His eyes follow you as you hurry off, ducking someplace where he can’t quite see you. Joshua tears his gaze away to look up at the night sky instead.

TIME CHECK: 11:59 PM.

Most of the apartments in Minghao’s building have left their windows open. Some superstition about inviting in good luck.

While Joshua is standing outside, he can faintly hear a blaring television beginning to count down the seconds. 

“Seventeen… sixteen… fifteen…” 

Joshua exhales, his breath coming out as a visible puff of air. His eyes flutter close, the image of the full moon burning behind his closed lids. The thought of being underneath it without you makes the earlier thrumming in his chest twist into something that almost aches.

He supposes that some wishes aren’t meant to come true. 

TIME CHECK: 12:01 AM. 

“Shua!”

Joshua startles. He hadn’t noticed your return, and he’s momentarily distracted from his thoughts as his eyes snap open. You look panicked; it makes his chest squeeze with concern. 

“Hey,” he says immediately, his hand instinctively resting on the side of your arm in a bid to soothe. “What’s wrong?” 

“I missed it.” 

“Missed—” 

“Missed you!” 

Before Joshua can question your words, you’re already ranting. “The clock on my phone is a couple of minutes behind, and I thought I had enough time. I just wanted to pop a mint, put on some lipstick, maybe—” 

The implications of your words hit him like a truck. His eyes widen, and then something almost like a laugh breaks from the back of his throat. 

“You— for what?” he manages, even though he already knows the answer. 

“For this,” you say, and then you’re standing up on your tiptoes. 

The press of your lips against his is better than every goddamn firework in the world. Joshua is sure that absolutely no one in the world feels the way that he does right now. 

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t freeze up for a minute. His free arm snakes around your waist, gently pulling you flush against him. His other hand goes to rest at your cheek as he tilts your head ever so slightly, just so he can deepen the kiss. 

When the two of you break apart for air, Joshua lets you breathe for all of five seconds before he’s kissing you again. 

You giggle against his mouth. And it’s dizzying to him, the way the two of you are smiling as this unfolds; the way the rest of the world is a flurry of noise, but he’s standing still with you in his arms. 

“Shua,” you say his name like a reprimand, gently pushing at his chest to get him off you for a moment. 

His body doesn’t seem to register it. His head instinctively ducks to follow your lips. The sheer desperation of it makes you smile. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you say, almost shy in your apology.

“My fault,” he responds hastily. “Told you to take your time.”

And, to hell with his dignity— 

“One more, please?” he asks, his tone just a little breathless. 

You’re laughing, again. Not at him, hopefully. He can’t bring himself to care, though, because your hand is already at the back of his neck, tugging him down. 

“One more,” you murmur.

Birthday wishes be damned. A quiet voice in the back of Joshua’s head whispers a disbelieving this is happening as he goes to kiss you again, knowing fully well by the way you respond that this won’t be the last time. 

It’s a fulfilled promise. 

This is happening. We’re happening.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ we could happen by aj rafael. what are you doing new year's eve? by zooey deschanel and joseph gordon-levitt. 7PM by bss and peder elias. tell me it's not a dream by 10cm. fallen by lola amour.

240525 #joshua 🦌 carats, thank you always. i will work hard to live up to the love that carats give me. so i'll be continue to be in your care. yoshi yoshi~ carats, the moon is pretty.

It's been a particularly horrible day, that day. Not because of anything specific, but just because sometimes days are like that. Days where the weather is terrible, your mood is terrible, work is terrible, and overall everything is just kind of… shit. 

Seven o'clock in the evening finds you in a cafe: the same cafe you've been in for four hours, clocking in some unwanted overtime because some idiot on your team managed to permanently delete half the spreadsheet you've been updating for weeks and now you have to scramble to fix it in two days before the annual overview meeting is conducted to all of your bosses. 

You’re exhausted, on the verge of a meltdown, and almost about to burst into tears when the gentle, male voice had spoken, and you look up just as a hand slides a steaming mug onto your table.

This man—he’s absolutely gorgeous, actually, but you don’t get to register it fully because the moment you look up, he suddenly dashes away to the other end of the cafe, bumping into empty tables before sitting down nonchalantly in one of the booths all the way on the other side, crossing his legs and waving, like nothing had happened.

“Hi,” he says, all cool and suave, even as he’s still waving. “I’m the guy from across the cafe.”

You blink, and then the pieces of his charade fall into place and you laugh, flattered. 

“Well, thank you very much,” you say, and then close your laptop, looking down at the hot chocolate on your table. The whipped cream is piled high, and the mini marshmallows are the pink kind. It’s very cute. “That’s very kind of you.” You smile, taking a sip. “I’ll also be sure to thank the handsome server who brought me my drink.”

The man’s smile widens, pleased. “I hope you don’t think the server was more handsome than me, though.”

You hum, tilting your head. “I’m not sure. Maybe if you come over here, I’ll be able to see you properly and make a real judgement.”

The man’s eyes light up, and he makes his way over to you, and—it’s like the whole world stops spinning. You’d already known he was handsome, and he’s been sitting on the other side of the cafe while talking to you, but it’s a whole other thing to be seeing him up close.

You’re now face-to-face with the prettiest person you’ve ever seen, with pretty brown eyes and a pretty lips that are pulled into a devastatingly pretty smile, and you have to fight a blush as he claims the seat opposite you at the table.

“Hi,” he says again, and laughs softly when you can’t quite meet his gaze, shy. 

“Hello,” you say, looking up briefly and feeling your face instantly heat up. What earlier confidence you’d had when calling him over has mysteriously disappeared, flustered in the face of this man’s handsomeness.

He laughs again, obviously finding you endearing as you look away, avoiding his gaze. And then he ducks his head down until he finds your eyes again before slowly straightening up, smiling when your gaze stays on him. “There we go,” he says softly. “Your eyes are so pretty. Please don’t look away.”

You blink rapidly, still very pink in the face. “Thank you.”

The man smiles. “My name’s Joshua,” he says, inclining his head in greeting. “May I have your name?”

Somehow, the oddly formal nature of Joshua’s question helps you shake some of your shyness, and you smile back at him, taking a sip from your hot chocolate. It’s sweet.

“I suppose you may,” you say, lightly teasing. “It’s Y/N.”

And then you hold out your hand for him to shake, playing up the formal greeting, and Joshua laughs, taking it in his own, his touch warm and grounding. You kind of want to hold his hand forever.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Joshua says. Disappointingly, his fingers fall away from your own almost instantly, and he gestures to the mug in front of you. “I hope you like the hot chocolate. I was actually, um, watching you from across the cafe, and you looked quite stressed, and so I wanted to give you the drink.”

“Oh.” His words have you melting a little, and he looks so adorable with his shining eyes and that shy smile on his face, as if nervous about this whole exchange. “Thank you. I was having a bit of a bad day, so this really helps.” You look down at the hot chocolate in mild wonder. “I thought this kind of thing only happened to main characters in rom coms.”

Joshua rubs the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed even as he laughs slightly, eyes crinkling. 

“I don’t really do things like this, normally,” he admits. “I’m kind of out of my depth here with this whole… flirting thing. But I thought you were cute, and you were working so hard, and I wanted to just give you something sweet to cheer you on.”

He thought you were cute. Despite his admission that he’s “out of his depth” here, you think he’s actually doing very well in this flirting. Devastatingly so.

Things like this just don’t happen to you. You’re not the type to have handsome men giving you hot chocolate at seven in the evening because they think you’re cute, but here you are, and Joshua’s smiling shyly even as his eyes glow, and he’s so pretty and this entire thing feels like something out of a dream.

“Your presence is sweeter than any drink could be,” you blurt out, and then promptly turn the shade of a beetroot, burying your face onto the top of your laptop lid. 

You can practically hear Joshua’s stunned silence, and then he laughs.

“Oh, please look up,” he says, when you still keep your face firmly buried in the laptop. “That’s the most adorable compliment I’ve ever gotten, seriously. You’re really—you’re really lovely, Y/N.”

“I’m also really embarrassed,” you say, muffled. “That was—I’m so sorry. I’m really bad at flirting. That was so weird.”

Joshua laughs again, and then there’s a light tap on the top of your head, and you lift your head slightly. Joshua takes the opportunity to reach over and lift your chin up with the tips of his fingers, smiling when you finally make eye contact with him again.

He’s blushing, you realise faintly. His fingers are warm on your face, and his cheeks are dusted pink. You did that to him.

“It wasn’t weird,” he assures. “I told you, I’m really bad at this whole thing too. But I came over here because I liked you, so it would be strange for me to dislike the idea of you liking me too.”

Your eyes widen. “You like me?”

Joshua scrunches his nose slightly, looking embarrassed again. He retracts his hand, and again, you miss the warmth of his touch. “This isn’t my first time seeing you,” he confesses. “You come here every Wednesday after work, don’t you? I’m always here around that time as well, and you’re always so bright and bubbly with your friends, and I just—well, like I said, I found you really cute.”

“Oh.” Joshua really is so, so sweet. “I’m sorry I haven’t ever talked to you before, then. Wow.” And then you smile. “But if it’s any consolation, I really do think you’re cute, too.”

Joshua’s whole face seems to glow as his eyes crinkle into crescents and he smiles widely. He’s still blushing prettily, and that makes you smile too, mesmerised by how someone who looks like him actually exists.

“Okay, lovebirds, wrap it up,” a voice suddenly says, and you jump, tearing your gaze away from Joshua, flustered. At the front of the cafe, there’s a barista wiping down the coffee machines. He stops what he's doing, leaning against the counter, watching you both amusedly. His name tag, Yoon Jeonghan, glints in the lights. “We’re closing up soon. You guys have to go.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” you call back, and quickly drink the last of the hot chocolate that Joshua gave you, before beginning to put your things back in your back. The spreadsheet isn’t fully finished, but oh well. You can get someone else to do it.

“Sorry, I probably distracted you,” Joshua says apologetically, as you put on your coat and shoulder your bag. He picks up your empty mug for you, ready to walk to the counter and give it back to the barista. “Did you manage to finish your work?”

You shake your head, and the two of you make your way out of the cafe. “No, but it’s okay,” you assure him. “I’ve been working on it for hours. I’ll get someone else to finish it off.”

Joshua nods and hands the mug back to the barista, who accepts it with a mischievous grin.

“Have a nice night, lovebugs,” the barista, Jeonghan, says, eyes twinkling. It makes Joshua roll his eyes, exasperated and benevolent at the same time, like he was used to such teasing. He bids Jeonghan goodnight and then leads you out of the cafe, opening the door for you and then following you out afterwards, until you’re both standing out on the empty street.

“A friend of mine, unfortunately,” Joshua says, as a way of explaining Jeonghan’s familiarity. “I may have, um, mentioned you to him, before. Once or twice.”

He’s being bashful again, awkward and shy in revealing his liking for you, and goodness, you’re finding him more and more endearing with each passing second you spend in his presence.

“Cute,” you say, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Joshua’s eyes widen, surprised, but like hell are you taking it back, because it’s true. “You’re really cute,” you laugh. “I… wow. Yeah. I think you’re really cute and just. Thank you, for spending time with me. This was really nice.”

Joshua’s eyes are still wide, and he swallows. 

“Okay,” he says, “I really, really don’t normally do this, but could I have your number? You’re just so nice and so pretty and I want to get to know you more, if that’s okay. You can say no, of course, and that’s totally fine, but if you’d like to, then—”

“Yes,” you cut off his rambling with a smile, and hold out a hand for his phone. “I’d like to. Of course I’ll give you my number.”

Your day did not start well at all. It’s been miserable, and exhausting, and frankly the worst day you’ve had in a while—but then a mug of hot chocolate had slid onto your table in a coffee shop, and you’d started to make conversation with the prettiest guy in the world, and now, now, now…

Now, Joshua beams at you, soft as marshmallow and sweet as chocolate, and well. You have to admit that your day has ended in the best possible way.

"Hey, I'm just-" The words die in your throat immediately, tumbling back down your throat and out of your vocabulary altogether.

Your eyes land on the figure sheepishly stepping through the door, eyes trained on yours and hands fidgeting to close the door behind him.

What the fuck.

"Hey," Junhui- Junhui? calls out in a murmur, hand hesitating to come up and give you a shy wave from across the room.

A single look at the man in front of you and you feel your entire body going slack. Your muscles freeze up in a way that you should be worried about. And your blood turns dangerously cold, thrumming against every single nook and cranny of your brain. Your mouth dries up faster than a mirage in the Sahara, a sudden feeling of your entire gut lurching out of your throat at the sight of him standing before you.

You don't trust your legs to hold your weight up, yet you carefully stand up to properly meet his eyes. Junhui gives you one of those smiles, a small and private thing you like to believe is reserved just for you. "Hi, you're not busy, are you?"

You feel your mouth opening but there are no words that follow. You can clearly see the way Junhui's eyes furrow in concern as he takes your frame in - probably looking the stupidest he's ever seen you with a dazed look in your eyes and jaw dropped to the floor beneath you.

"Yn?" He chuckles, awkward as his eyes dart to the wall behind you, back to your face, and to the floor by your- oh fuck, you've dropped the bunch of hangers you've been arranging.

If it was any other time, you would have immediately gotten to pick them up and continue the task given to you. But no, this isn't any other time. Your breathtakingly beautiful boyfriend has just walked into the room with dark hair up in a traditional updo, looking like he's just stepped out of the pages of a Chinese history book.

The hair that sits on top of his head is carefully tightened into a high ponytail, secured with a shining hairpiece. There's a halo of loose strands of dark hair falling over his face in the most perfect way, grazing the skin of his forehead and cheeks like nothing has ever before. Even the small braids are falling over his shoulder in such an artistic way, making it harder and harder for you to take your eyes off him.

"Holy shit"

You don't process the words rolling out of your own tongue until you see Junhui's eyes snap to yours, lightening up in a way that makes you want to smash your head against a wall nearby. God, he's the most endearing thing you've ever seen.

Even though you're pretty sure your brain is functioning right now, you still catch sight of Junhui squirming in his place, seemingly uncomfortable under your gaze heavily pinned on him for what feels like an eternity. He tries to pretend like his face isn't heated up under all the makeup, hands unconsciously coming to wring against each other as he avoids your eyes.

"Junnie," You breathe, not wanting him to feel uneasy by your reaction. He must have been so excited to show you his costume, his character. "Come here, baby"

If your boyfriend sported some cat ears, you swear you would see them perking up straight at the sound of you beckoning him over. He takes a few long steps to cross the room and land straight into your arms.

"Hi"

Even when he's trapped between your arms, you still lean back to look at him. If you thought he was breathtaking from afar, the close-up view is a thousand times better in your opinion. You unconsciously brush your fingers along the wisps of artificial hair that's framing his face, making him scrunch his nose adorably. My god.

You very carefully bring your palms to his face, not quite touching but hovering over his skin in an attempt to spare the meticulously done make-up.

Junhui is more than accustomed to your reactions after being together for such a long time. He knows no matter how hard you promise to be normal about anything he ever does, it's usually the opposite that ends up happening. Then again, he wouldn't really have it any other way. He lives for the way you truly stare at him like he's the most graceful person to ever walk on earth anytime he gets styles differently. But he still can't help the way his eyes widen out of instinct when you finally whisper and the words that come out of your mouth is,

"I think I'm gonna throw up"

"Shit," He mumbles. "Is it that bad?"

"No!" You're gasping immediately, hands coming down to grasp his neck, fingers idly laying against his pulse point. "no, no no. That's not what I meant. That is not what I meant" You ramble, carefully tugging his face till he meets your eyes "I...I just...wow"

He stays silent as you take another second to run your eyes across the entirety of his face. Your thumbs stroke along the flutter of his pulse unconsciously as you truly, really let yourself look at him.

If Junhui were to be asked, he'd say that at some point, your mouth even drops open a little, truly shocked by the state of him standing in front of you.

Junhui is so blessed. He is so so blessed.

He's a shy person by nature. Junhui's not used to being the sole point of focus when it comes to a lot of things. Coming from a group as big as Seventeen, it's not common for him to be under the severe light of attention either. It's always spared, shared and half-hearted. He prefers it that way too, you know that perfectly well. Keeping to himself in the back rows and speaking up only when he's spoken to, he's fragile about being in the scrutinised limelight. Except, when he's in front of you.

You have never been shy about showing him how beautiful he is - how it affects you, especially. Sometimes he thinks the gasps and the starry eyes are overexaggerated from your end. But in times like this, where you spend so long just simply peering into his face with eyes genuinely sparkling with something he recognises as true awe - he's truly overwhelmed by how much you seem to love him. So he can't help but squirm in your grasp and try to get your attention off of him as soon as possible.

"St-op" He mutters quietly, shaking his head as he tries to remove your hands from his neck.

"You're unreal" You whisper, mostly to yourself rather than him. The slight tightening of your grip on his keeps him in place despite him trying to break out. "I'm going to cry"

Junhui winces. "That's a...good thing, I think?"

"Definitely" You answer on autopilot. "It's a good thing, Jun. It's a great thing"

Junhui doesn't bother answering you, it's not like you're going to process anything that comes out of his mouth anyway. From the dazed look in your eyes, he can tell that your entire brain has been clouded by Junhui, Junhui, Junhui - specifically, his hair, hair, hair.

"So," He starts once he's given you enough time to pull yourself back together, lips curling into a shy smile and hands slithering around your waist. "What do you think?"

"Jun," Now fully snapped out of your trance, you barely stop yourself from whining like a feral animal "I just spent an entire fifteen minutes staring at you like a dumb fuck. What do you think I think about this asshole?"

Jun can't help but laugh at the way you're clearly embarrassed now that you're back to your senses. "Yeah, you were almost drooling, baby. Here, I think you got some on your chin"

You swat at Junhui when he tugs you close, one hand teasingly coming up to swipe the corner of your lips. "Shut up, go away. I'm so mad at you"

"What?" He's quick to drop the act into a pout. "Why?"

"You look so-" You cut yourself off, looking to the side to compose yourself and possibly calm the hammering heart inside your chest. "Fuck, I told myself I'm going to be so normal about this"

Junhui laughs, fully throws his head back and laughs, at your frustration. He's clearly enjoying the way you're losing his cool. "Normal? This is actually pretty normal compared to how you reacted to my blonde hair"

"Nuh-uh, that can't even come close to this- this...fucking hell" You reach close to brush the bangs off of his forehead as you drop your voice an octave lower, almost whispering, " Besides, when have I ever been normal about you?"

You pretend not to notice how he's trying so hard not to make it seem like he's flushed under all of that makeup. If Junhui was blushing from all the staring you did earlier, he's for sure being burned alive right now.

"You're too much, I swear" He murmurs, leaning into your palm resting against his cheek.

"You look so beautiful" You mumble instead, nothing but sincerity dripping with your words. "You look so pretty, I can just cry looking at you"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," You whisper, breathing in the same air as Junhui as you lean in close. "You're the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen in my entire life, have I ever told you that?"

"Eh, once or twice" He shrugs. "Here and there"

"Well then," You take another breath before leaning in to lightly press your lips to the side of his mouth. "You look so beautiful. The prettiest, the prettiest boy I've ever seen. Absolutely angelic, Jun. You look so...unreal. You look like a dream, my love. I don't even have words, holy shit"

Junhui closes his eyes when you press your lips to his, a soft peck as you seal your words with finality. A promise. A swear. You pull back almost as quickly as you leaned in, clearly not wanting to mess up the makeup on his skin. But Junhui never did learn how to be satisfied, so he can't help but tug you in for a second kiss. It's a little deep, his lips fitting between yours like a puzzle piece made for each other. He hums into your mouth, almost whining when you push him away with a hand on his neck.

"I'm going to get fired if you keep this up" You mumble as he looks down at you with those stupid hooded eyes of his. "You have to get outside, angel"

"I wanna stay" Junhui sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "Here, with you"

"I wish I could keep you all to myself too," You say as you run a careful hand through the hair falling on his back. "Especially when you look like such a doll. But you have to get to the ceremony, yeah?"

Junhui sighs even heavier as he stands back up, bringing a hand to fuss with the strands falling on the side of his face. "It's raining too, it's going to be so messy"

"I'll take you home as soon as you're finished okay," You say, grabbing onto his hand to stop him from potentially ruining the hairdo. "Then we can stay in all night"

Junhui gawks when you send a sly wink at him, looking appalled by your suggestion of 'staying in all night'

"Go on then" You finally say after he's recovered, fixing the collar of his team hoodie and running your hands along the length of his arms as you step away. "If I keep you in here a little longer, you're going to walk out of this room with that hair in your hands"

"Oh," Junhui coughs, taken aback by the teasing lilt in you voice. When you wink at him again for added measure, he shoves you away with a scowl.

"Stop that, oh my god" He grumbles, pretending that he's probably not flushed pink from head to toe. "Don't do that, I hate you"

"Aw, that's too bad" You pout, mocking him right back. "I was going to have my way with you once we get home but I guess I can't do that now"

"Shut up, oh my god" You laugh as Junhui brings his hands up to his face, desperately trying to hide the fact that his entire face is starting to burn. "I'm leaving, you're being evil to me"

"Yeah, yeah" You chuckle. "You're going to give a heart attack to the entire world with that hair, my love"

Once you're both at the door, Junhui turns to you with a smile.

You're not surprised when he pulls you closer to press his lips to yours again. Even though you're still hyper-aware of the makeup, it doesn't stop you from pressing your lips harder against his, kissing him back with everything you have. He hums that familiar sound against your mouth and brings a hand up to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. When he tilts his head to try and pry open your mouth, you barely catch yourself before your hand automatically moves to grip his hair. Quickly tightening your grip on his hoodie instead, you tug yourself away from him with a gasp.

"Get out before I mess up your makeup, Wen Junhui" You push him away, ignoring the way his lips tug into the shape of a smirk.

"Can you ruin my makeup after the ceremony? once we go home?"

You shake your head. "Get out, you have a job to do"

"Fine, fine" He laughs, finally moving to unlock the door to step out of the room. "Wish me luck!"

You roll your eyes, pushing him into the hallway with a light smack to his butt. "Go be pretty and do your thing, Wen Junhui. Good luck"

"Bye, love you" The sound of his laugh echoes through the corridor, making your lips curve up into a fond smile.

"Bye, angel. I'll see you later"

"I said I love you!"

"I love you too" You're almost screaming into the hallway but god, the sound of his giggles makes it worth it anyway. "Now, run. You're already too late"

It's not his normal smile, warm and reassuring. No, this smile is reserved only for you, you realize. His eyes scrunch into upside down Us and his mouth scrunches up, and he looks like an emoji, and it's possibly the most endearing thing you've ever seen. And that smile, that adorable emoji smile, is how you know two things for sure: First, Joshua Hong is drunk. And second, you're hopelessly, irrevocably in love with your best friend.

The first time Josh smiles at you like that, he's dragging you home after one of Seungcheol's infamous parties (or you're dragging him - honestly, who knows?).

"Your house is too far," he pants, half from exertion, half from laughing too hard at heaven knows what. "You can sleep over at mine, I have extra sh-" his statement is interrupted by a burp, and the two of you dissolve into giggles all over again.

"Ew," you say, wiping tears from your eyes as you tamper down on a giggle threatening to escape you. "Joshua cooties. Jooties!"

He slips his arms through yours and drops a sloppy, drunken kiss into your hair. "Mmmm," he hums.. "Jooties. Yes." And then he smiles at you, and it feels like the world has dropped from under your feet.

It’s not the typical grin you’ve seen him flash countless times—no, this one is different. His eyes crinkle so deeply at the corners, turning into soft crescents, and his mouth curves upward in a way that makes his whole face light up. It’s the kind of smile that’s so sincere and pure, it seems to melt right into you, warm and gentle. His cheeks lift, and there’s a playfulness in his expression that feels intimate, like you’re the only one who gets to see this side of him.

And for the first time in two years, your heart skips a beat. Joshua Hong has never smiled at you like this before, and it’s the first time you wonder if maybe you love him.

The dying fire pops and Soonyoung jostles against you on accident, shaking you from your reverie. Joshua had already been looking at you, and when you meet his eyes, he smiles again, and it makes your heart do somersaults in your chest.

Needing a break from Mingyu's never-ending ad-libs, you nod your head away from the group, and he stumbles his way over, the corners of his mouth still twitching upwards as you lead him to a quiet stretch of the beach.

"Where are we going?" he asks, tripping over the consonants a little.

“Just wanted some fresh air,” you reply, settling on the cool sand. Joshua flops down next to you, the remnants of laughter still bubbling in the air.

The stars twinkle above, a cosmic array that feels almost too magical to be real. Joshua gazes up, his eyes wide and shining. “Do you think… do you think the stars have feelings?” he muses, his tone dreamy and childlike.

This is the part of Shua you love the most, you realize - the boy who always has so much wonder and curiosity about the world. “Like… what do you mean?”

“I mean, they’re up there all the time, shining away. Maybe they feel lonely?” He turns to you, his expression earnest despite his earlier drunken shenanigans. “What if they just want someone to look at them?”

The second time Joshua smiles at you like that is on a summer night, only a few weeks after Seungcheol’s party. You’re both lying on the grass outside your apartment, too tired from the long day at the beach to make it inside.

His leg is casually brushing against yours as he points out constellations.  His hand grazes yours, and you will yourself to be very, VERY still, your heart racing in your chest as you focus on the warmth radiating from him.

“Look!” he suddenly exclaims, pointing to a star twinkling especially bright in the dying summer light. “It’s the happiest star in the galaxy!”

You glance over at him, catching the way his profile is softly lit by the stars and the dim lights from your yard. He looks like a dream. You tear your gaze away, following his finger up into the sky. “Happiest star, huh?” you ask, trying to play along even though all you can think about is the heat from his skin. “Why’s that?”

Joshua turns his head toward you, and when you look back at him, you see that smile again. His eyes crinkle in the most endearing way, like they’re scrunched shut from happiness. His lips curve into a soft, easy smile that stretches across his face—completely unguarded, completely natural. His whole expression radiates warmth and affection, like it’s the kind of smile that could only exist when he’s with you, in this moment.

It’s so genuine, so full of quiet joy, that for a second, you feel like the whole world stops, and it’s just the two of you, lying under the stars.

“Because it knows how special we are,” he whispers, his voice soft and sincere. And for a brief, dangerous moment, you almost lean in and kiss him.

But you quickly look back up at the sky, heart pounding, only to notice that the star seems to be getting closer and closer. “Shua,” you say, laughing nervously, “that’s a PLANE, you idiot.”

You both burst into laughter, your bodies shaking as the absurdity of it takes over. When you finally calm down, you glance back at him, and he’s still smiling that same sweet, irresistible smile, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It makes your chest ache, and that’s when you know you love him.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm, Shua?" You keep your eyes fixed on the stars above, afraid that if you look at him again, that smile—the one that makes your heart twist in all the best and worst ways—might undo you completely. One more glance, and you’re not sure if you’ll kiss him, cry, or both.

"Do you think the stars want someone to look at them?" His voice is soft, words slurred just enough to remind you how much he's had to drink. His hand reaches out, fingers lacing with yours. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quicken through the skin of your wrist, but you stay perfectly still, pretending it’s nothing more than another casual touch.

“Maybe,” you whisper, your voice barely loud enough to compete with the sound of the waves. You don’t dare look at him. “Or maybe we just like talking to them because they’re the only ones we can be honest with, you know?”

Joshua hums, a low, thoughtful sound. He tightens his grip on your hand, and for a second, the space between you feels smaller than it ever has before. "Maybe..." His voice trails off, the words slow, like he’s working through the haze of alcohol. "Maybe we should tell the stars a secret."

You swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. There’s something fragile about this moment, something you’re both teetering on the edge of, but neither of you is willing to leap. His hand stays in yours, warm and steady, grounding you even as the uncertainty lingers in the air between you.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the faintest trace of that smile—the one you can’t quite get out of your head - and you tell the stars your secret. 

It’s quiet for a beat. Two. The waves crash against the shore, and you time your breaths to the sound of the tide. 

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you tell the stars?” he murmurs, voice slower now, soft and pliant. It sounds like love, you think. 

You feel a smile tugging at your lips, heart beating louder in your chest as you speak. “That’s a secret.”

Joshua shifts beside you, sand crunching softly under his weight. He doesn’t respond right away, and you can almost hear him smile. "Wanna bet it’s the same secret?"

The teasing edge in his voice catches you off guard. You turn your head, just enough to see the glint in his eyes, the lazy grin spreading across his face. “What are we betting?” you ask, almost breathless.

He leans in slightly, the smell of salt and campfire clinging to him, his voice dropping as he says, “A kiss.”

(For the record, you should have seen this coming. Sweet and doe-like as he can be, Joshua Hong is Yoon Jeonghan’s best friend)

The third time Shua smiles at you like he loves you, it’s a rainy July afternoon and you’re swaddled in blankets in his living room. Love, Actually is queued and forgotten on the TV as you and Josh throw popcorn into each other’s mouths. 

When you miss for the 12th time in a row, Josh looks over at the movie, and then back at you, eyes sparkling with something you can’t quite place. “You know, if we keep watching these cheesy rom-coms, I might just end up believing in love at first sight,” he teases, his voice light.

You snort, nudging him playfully. “Is that so? Careful, or you might fall in love with me.”

He leans back, a grin spreading across his face, and for a moment, you can’t help but admire how carefree he looks. “Who says I’m not already?” 

You launch a pillow at his head to hide how stunned you are. “Shut up, Shua.” The room suddenly feels too hot - he’s too close to you, to the truth. 

Jeonghan picks the perfect time to walk in the door, and the moment is broken. As he and Joshua engage in yet another fight about Jeonghan’s annoying habit of not taking his wet socks off, you steal a breath and try to calm your fluttering heart. When you finally find the courage to look at Joshua again, he’s already smiling at you - soft, sweet, and full of warmth. It terrifies you and exhilarates you, and the world around you fades away. 

Your breath hitches. For a moment, the world feels like it’s tilting, like the stars have drawn closer, hanging low enough to brush against your skin. You swallow, heart pounding, and manage to keep your voice steady. “You’re drunk.”

Joshua just shrugs, the corners of his lips quirking up like this is the funniest thing in the world. “That is a fact,” he says, still looking at you with those half-lidded, adoring eyes. “Want another?”

You glance away, the stars blurring above you, your mind racing. “Sure. Why not?” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant, even though every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire.

He shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours. His next words fall softly between you, barely above a breath. “I love you. That’s the secret.” His eyes are warm, and for the first time tonight, the drunken haze seems to clear for just a moment. "Now pay up."

For a second, you can’t move. The waves crash softly in the distance, the laughter from the group fading into a low murmur as you process what he just said. The words hang in the air between you, delicate and heavy all at once.

You find your voice, though it comes out more as a whisper. “How did you know?”

He smiles again, softer this time, his thumb brushing your hand gently. “Because you have this one smile… one that you only give me. Like I’m the only person in the world that matters.”

The air feels too thin suddenly, and you blink, your heart racing. “You have the same smile,” you manage to say, your voice breaking just a little, as if the truth has snuck up on you, too.

His grin widens, that familiar warmth spreading across his face like it always does when he’s pleased with himself. "Match made in heaven then," he murmurs. "Now pay up."

For a beat, you just stare at him, your mind blank, the weight of everything settling in slowly. Then, before you can think too much about it, you lean in. Your lips meet his, soft and tentative at first, testing the waters—but the moment he kisses you back, the rest of the world fades away.

Joshua’s hand moves to cradle your cheek, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. He tastes faintly of alcohol, but underneath it, there's something familiar, something that feels like home. The heat from his body mingles with yours, and for a moment, nothing else matters but the way he feels against you.

When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, the world seems to settle back into place. The stars above twinkle faintly, and you’re aware of the soft crash of waves in the distance again. But Joshua’s still smiling—smiling in that way that’s reserved only for you.

“Told you it was the same secret,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Shut up, Shua.”

He laughs softly, his voice a warm rumble in the quiet night. “Can’t help it.”

The two of you fall silent again, the world shrinking down to just the two of you, the sound of the waves, and the stars twinkling above. You find yourself staring up at the sky, your hand still in his, as if nothing needs to be said. It feels like the universe is watching, waiting, holding its breath.

After a moment, you break the silence. “You remember that night… when you told me about the happiest star in the galaxy?”

Joshua chuckles beside you. “How could I forget?” He tilts his head back, eyes scanning the sky as if searching for that same star. “I told you it was smiling for us.”

You smile at the memory. “Yeah, and then you said it knew how special we were.”

His thumb brushes over your hand, the gesture gentle, like a reminder of the words you’ve both left unsaid for so long. “I guess I always knew,” he murmurs.

You glance at him, the soft glow of starlight casting his face in shadows, but there’s a light in his eyes, something quiet and real. “Knew what?”

“That we were special,” he says, his voice soft but certain. “You and me.”

Your heart skips a beat, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. You turn back to the sky, feeling the same sense of wonder from that summer night so long ago. The stars are still shining, still twinkling like they’ve been waiting for this moment.

You let out a breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “Think the happiest star is still watching us?”

Joshua smiles, and though you can’t see it fully, you can feel it—the same smile he’s always reserved just for you. “I think it’s still smiling.”

Neither of you says anything after that. The night stretches on, quiet except for the faint sound of the waves lapping at the shore. You lie there side by side, the cool sand beneath you, his hand still loosely holding yours. The sky above feels endless, full of stars that have seen nights like this before.

joshua

holding doors open for you. he’s a gentleman, and also a little shit, and holding doors for you is the perfect way to be both. it's sweet, and helps you carry on your conversations without a hitch, and earns him a warm smile as you enter through the cafe doors he's held open for you. but he also holds the door when you're several metres away, just grinning as you glare and do that awkward hop-run towards him so he won't be standing there by the door for ages. nevertheless, the action is often mindless, natural, showing how much he always goes out of his way to help you, even with the little things. 

junhui

sends you pics and is like “this is us!!!!”. it's not ur typical romantic gesture thing, but it also shows how he just thinks about you, always. whenever he goes out anywhere you can bet he'll take a photo of two cats or two leaves or, one time, two cigarette butts on the floor and tell u how they look just like you two <33 even if you can't see any sort of correlation whatsoever, it warms your heart and you find yourself looking forward to the silly little pictures that junhui sends you. you have a whole album in your phone dedicated to them, in fact. he cries when he finds out. 

hoshi

giving you flowers. not the plastic-wrapped, fancily arranged flowers. just… flowers he finds. a pretty violet in the park that made him think of you. a sunflower from the girl selling flowers in front of her house because they're cute and he thinks you're cute too. sometimes the flowers are growing in someone's garden so he sends you photos of them, because flowers are pretty and it only seems right to send pretty things to the prettiest person he knows. and it feels more heartfelt to send you these ones, the real ones, rather than the perfectly picked flowers in the shop. because that's what you are. beautiful and real.

wonwoo

he becomes talkative when he's with you. this isn't rlly a gesture (most of these aren't tbh) but he just. he just talks so much when he's talking to you. wonwoo is quite introverted, and even with the others, he'll probably talk the least, but when it comes to you, it's like the words just flow out of him. you make him feel comfortable. he wants to tell you everything, to share every detail of his life with you, because there's just something about you that makes him feel lighter, softer, more relaxed. there are few who know wonwoo better than he knows himself, but he's more than happy with the fact that you're one of them.

woozi

smiling whenever he sees you. every time your eyes meet, every single damn time, the corners of his lips will twitch upwards and his eyes will crinkle just that little bit. most of the time, it's unintentional, and it makes you feel giddy to know you have such an unconscious effect on him. sometimes, he'll smile for your sake even when he's exhausted out of his mind, and that touches your heart, because he cares enough to put on a smile for you, to try and comfort you, to show you that he loves you even when he's like this. 

minghao

remembering small things about you. you swear that minghao probably had some secret file full of information about you, because you really don't know how he does it. you'll offhandedly mention something about your niche food preferences one time, but he'll remember it and randomly bring it up when you're out at dinner three months later. it's like some sort of magic, but when you comment on it, minghao just shrugs with a smile. of course he remembers these things about you. who do you think he is? 

mingyu

sending “goodnight” and “good morning” texts. every. single. day. it's so devastatingly sweet of him, and he always wakes up a little earlier than you, so you get to start each day with a brief, adorable morning update from your boyfriend. they're sometimes the only things that get you out of bed, and at night, you know you're guaranteed one last conversation with the love of your life before you go to sleep, and nothing is more comforting than going to bed whilst imagining mingyu murmuring a warm “goodnight” into your ears

dokyeom

holding hands. the action itself could be romantic enough, but he always has a specific intention, a specific reason that causes him to hold your hand. you never know how he knows, but when you're particularly stressed or overwhelmingly exhausted or simply feeling like you're at your limit, his hand finds yours, fingers interlacing, his touch warm and safe and grounding. it's like he always knows, like he's aware that he's your lifeline, that he's the one thing you need in order to keep sane. he holds your hand, and that small action speaks louder than any “i love you” he's ever said. 

seungkwan

“so, tell me how your day went?”. he's a yapper, he won't deny it, and firmly tells you that it's because gossip just loves him so he kind of Has to talk about stuff, Always. there's always something or other going on in his life at any given point and if he can, he'll 100% tell you every single detail. nevertheless, he's still aware that he can sometimes talk a little too much, so after a bit, he'll always settle down and turn the topic to you. regardless of how busy he is, he'll always find time to talk about you and what you've been up to, no matter what. 

vernon

tucking your hair out of your face. it's habitual, and he won't even bat an eye as he lifts a finger to brush a strand of hair away before it can get caught on your lips or fly into your eyes. it's sweet, but also a little unusual, so you ask him about it one day, as he's tucking loose curls behind your ear. and he says it's simply because he likes watching you talk, likes looking at your face as your eyes shine and you chatter animatedly, and he didn't want your hair getting in the way. he likes looking at you, he says. so he tucks your hair out of your face. 

chan

he's always planning “surprise dates”. it's so cute bc you always know when they're coming, because he's grinning ridiculously wide and looking so!! adorably!! pleased with himself before he asks you out but it's just so endearing that you always smile and laugh as you say yes. the fact that he never gets tired of planning things for you, for arranging days where he does things specifically for you and takes you out to do things that he thinks you will love… it shows how much he loves you, even without him having to say the words. 

request guidelines

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come. 

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not four in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have. 

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved. 

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face. 

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs. 

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow. 

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you. 

He isn't. 

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

 Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile. 

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself. 

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you. 

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

and now he's spilled coffee all over the counter and the side of his hand. you're holding his hand by the wrist under cold water in the back of the shop, and he sees the way it runs over the tips of your fingers. he knows soonyoung and wonwoo are out in the storefront, cleaning up his mess. he knows jihoon probably took over the register for you. and he's just a mess underneath your touch, heart racing at you doing basic first aid for him. he can't tell you that it's all because he heard the way soonyoung made you laugh, and today it affected him more than normal.

"you don't have to do this," he says quietly. maybe if you go back out there, he'll calm down and manage to pull through the rest of this shift. it's not the first time he's burned himself while on the job. he's just lucky it wasn't that bad.

"i want to." your fingers grow just a little tighter around his wrist, angling his hand a little better. "does it still hurt?"

he shakes his head. a moment later, he shifts his weight from leg to leg, and leans against the edge of the sink. "thank you."

to his surprise, you just lean over, head resting against him. "of course. i'd do anything for you. i care about you a lot, jun."

and it's a confession, he thinks. it feels more weighted than your usual words. he's heard you say sweet things to the others, but not like this. you're so serious and careful in saying something but not too much. he just wraps his arm around you, letting you stay as close as you want.

"... i'm free for dinner tonight," he says after a moment. "i'll, um, i'll buy. just to say thanks."

you just smile, and stay close. "alright... but we split the bill on future dates, alright?"

you sigh as you spin around in your chair to face him. "of course i love you. don't be silly, junnie. come here then."

you pull up another shorter chair next to you and wave your hand, gesturing for him to sit next to you. jun's face instantly lights up as he quickly comes to sit next to you.

you continue working on the new tracks as junhui peeks at your laptop. "what are you working on?" he plays with the edge of your hoodie.

"your new comeback. i'm working on the hiphop unit's song. do you wanna hear it?" you take off your headphones and pass them to jun.

he grins before putting the headphones on. you press play and the chorus of "lalali" meets his ears. he nods along with the beat.

the music stops after a while. "what do you think? this is just like the sample so it may not be that good." you say expectantly.

"it sounds so good, baby." he hands you back the headphones, giving you a kiss on the cheek. "the carats will love it."

"you think so?" you spin around in your chair to face him before ruffling his hair. he smile fondly as he nods. "yeah, definitely." you smile shyly before speaking up again.

"well, jihoon and bumzu did do most of it." junhui frowns slightly. "you still helped, didn't you? and you're working so hard on it, baby."

"only a little bit." you reply sheepishly as he takes your hands in his. jun suddenly frowns as he seems to register something. "hey. why are you working on hiphop unit's song?"

he whines as he swings your intertwined hands back and forth. you let out a small laugh at this and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. "they asked me to work on this one first!"

"who is it." he asks in a serious tone, making you look at him with a raised eyebrow. "who is what?" you reply in a confused tone.

"who is it that you like so much in hiphop unit? is it scoups hyung? because i will kill him if i need to." he says in a cute but threatening way.

you can't stop laughing at jun's childish jealousy. "i only like you, baby. scoups oppa is nice but you're my boyfriend, jun." jun let's out another offended gasp.

"oppa? did you just call him oppa? and i thought you two were just mere acquaintances. tell me, what does he have that i don't?" his chocolate brown eyes meet yours as he pouts.

you roll your eyes, a small smile adorning your face. "me and cheol are friends! i can call him oppa because he's older than me, jun. and he told me to. plus, you're the only one i call baby. and you have everything i could ever ask for, junhui."

with that, he seems to relax slightly, his hands however, holding on to yours for dear life.

a couple seconds of silence pass by as the two of you just look at each other. "promise you won't leave me for seungcheol hyung?" jun says in a smaller voice.

"promise."

"we have to pinky promise and lock thumbs or it won't count." he says very seriously. you let out a small giggle as you release your hands and hold out your pinky to link with his as you touch your thumbs together.

he let's out a sigh of relief after your pinky promise before he gently grabs both your hands again, playing with your fingers. you let out a giggle. "i love you, junnie."

"i love you too."